The Great Bird-Spotting Adventure of 1973

When I was in fourth grade I was riding in a car with my parents and brother, on Washington Street in Charleston, and pointed at the flat roof of a building that was visible from the road. “Look at all those birds!” I shouted.

Right away I knew I’d committed a tactical error. I didn’t know exactly what was going on, but saw how my parents reacted, and the look of concern they exchanged.

“You think those are birds?” my mother asked.

“They’re not?”

“No, they’re rocks. I think you might need glasses.”

What the?! I was thrown into an instant state of panic. Glasses?? That would flat-out ruin my life. I couldn’t wear glasses to that jackal’s nest known as Dunbar Elementary. I’d be mocked and ridiculed, unmercifully. The mere thought of such a thing scared me to my skeleton. There was simply no way; it was outside the realm of possibility. I’d be eaten alive.

And what the hell was wrong with me, anyway? Commenting on birds?? Who am I, Marlin Perkins? They’re everywhere! Was it really necessary to shout with excitement, just because I thought I saw a few more? Am I retarded, or something? I really needed to learn to keep my Zotz hole shut.

In short order I was inside Dr. Stewart’s office, having an eye exam. And he gave me the bad news: I needed to start clipping corrective apparatus to my head. My mother looked at me with sympathy, but went ahead and ordered the glasses that would ruin my life, anyway. And I was plunged into darkness. Only two weeks to live… When those horrible things came back from the lab, my life was over.

They were wire-rimmed, but shockingly big. This was the 1970s, remember, when there was no such thing as subtlety. When Doc Stewart had me put them on in the office, I couldn’t believe how clear everything looked. I had no idea… The whole world was in sharp focus, and seemed to be brighter. It was amazing.

But when I got home, and looked at myself in the mirror… deep depression took hold. I looked like a goddamn freak. Inside my head I could already hear the cruel laughter.

My mother told me I needed to start wearing my new glasses the next day at school. She told me people would probably comment on them for a couple of hours, and it would be over. It was no big deal, she assured me. But I knew the truth.

So, I didn’t wear them. I took them to school, but never put them on. I didn’t have the courage.

And somewhere along the line my mother figured it out. I don’t know how, but she knew I was lying about it. She assured me I’d be punished if I didn’t start wearing the new glasses immediately. It’s a wonder I didn’t worry myself gray over all that crap. I was fully stressed.

And the next day I held a book in front of my face, slipped the glasses on for a split-second, and quickly returned them to their case. Nobody noticed, and I was able to tell my mom — without lying — that I’d worn my glasses at school. She bought it, and I repeated this ritual daily.

Then baseball season rolled around… My parents wanted me to wear my glasses while playing, but I wouldn’t do it. They didn’t understand, since everyone was surely used to them by now. What was the big deal?

Of course months had passed, and not a single person outside our house had actually seen me wearing those stupid-looking WWII Japanese soldier specs. I was in a bind.

There was yelling, and probably some crying, but I wouldn’t budge. There was no way I was wearing my glasses while playing baseball. I was told I’d either wear them, or quit the team. I said I’d turn in my uniform, and my mother flew off the handle. She’d had enough of this crap, and all my options were officially off the table.

She took me to practice that night, and stayed there. Usually I just rode my bike, but she accompanied me on this day. And I was forced to take the field in my ridiculous Elton Johns. I was awash in perspiration, and felt like I was walking the green mile.

BCD’s. Back in my day, plain old black plastic. Actually if you took them and had the local eye place tint them as dark as possible, they pretty much looked like the glasses the Blues Brothers wore. But plain, you were not getting laid.

I didn’t need glasses in school….my problem was my teef. I don’t know what was worse, getting ridiculed about my beaver teef or my metal mouth. Now, I must admit, I could pick small change up off a table with just my teeth. But that doesn’t give those relentless dickbeaters the right to call me “bucky” or “beaver”. Later on, once the braces came off, it was “BB” for “BigBoobs”. Those fuckers had to find something to bully about.

Oh man, I so had that same kind of experience. You’d think the powers that be would have figured out how big a money maker eyewear could be and givin us some frickin choices!! In my case though, it wasn’t birds it was cows… I think I said something like “Hey look at those horses” and the response was, “Those are cows, Robert”… been wearing glasses ever since.

I was in 4th grade… and thoroughly shocked that there were individual leaves on the trees! I couldn’t stop looking at them…
Last July I had Lasik (best decision ever)… I find that I still cant stop looking at the leaves…

I played left field because I could throw the ball from the fence to the plate on one bounce.

I never actually caught the ball though, because i needed glasses and no one knew.

Same thing for when i was at bat. I couldn’t see the ball until iwas already up on me. The only reason I ever got a hit is because it was little league and there weren’t very many sliders being thrown.

The Qweezy Mark once pitched a no-hitter in JV ball. I was on first, and all our friends in the infield were trying to make him laugh during the game. The catcher’s signs were a combination of flipping the finger, and the universal jerk-off sign. Then he started throwing knuckleballs.

I got glasses in second grade. It was the damn teacher who told on me. Apparently, she didn’t like it that I had to sit close to the board. Really close. Really, really, REALLY close. Like I pushed my desk in front of all the other desks so I could read what she put up there. I, too, remember being able to see leaves on trees. I thought that was the most amazing thing. Ever. We won’t mention my mother’s ever-evolving means of making sure I had No Self-Esteem. Like the blue plastic frames she got me and told me were stylish.

Clueless, when I see my old school pictures, it makes me sad. I have naturally curly hair. VERY curly. My mom had no clue what to do with it, so she kept it really short. I pretty much looked like a poodle. A poodle with blue plastic glasses.

Miss Q… we could have been twins of sorts… I too have naturally curly hair… and it’s red… and my mom insisted that pink plastic frames, (the size of my face), with a slight rose tint on the lens was very stylish… and when she tired of me complaining while she brushed my hair… she cut it… short…. very short…
I looked like a red microphone with pink glasses…I don’t know how I made it out alive…

All the adults on the street I grew up on would “occasionally” have a few beverages, and then decide the kids all needed their bangs cut. My dad only had 1 hand, and it seems he was the cutter more often than not. Tape was always involved, but the classic was the time they could not find scissors, ans used pinking shears instead. Atleast we all matched.

I first got glasses at age 6. When I was maybe 10, and getting new glasses, I was asked to pick out a frame. I looked at the ones on display and pointed to the one I liked. The man took them down, looked at the tag, looked my dad, and said “the kid has good taste – this is the most expensive frame I have”.

Here in the present day, I can’t even imagine not wearing glasses. The notion of contacts just creeps me out: why would I poke myself in the eye deliberately? No thank you.

And finally, you might be getting old if the optometrist has said that you need bifocals.
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Cataracts are not big deal anymore. Hell, I don’t think they were a big deal when my Grandparents got them fixed in the mid-eighties. Something else will surely kill you, so you got that going for you.

This sonovabitch crook of an eye doctor “tried” to convince me I had the beginnings of cataracts – so he could operate. I went to another doctor – my eyes were fine. Unfortunately, the crook pursuaded Beloved he needed the surgery, too. His eyesight has been fucked up ever since.

thanks WB and Madz… he assured me as you did WB that I would more likely die with them… and he did give it a level 1 out of 100… I pay extra attention when my eye dr talks about my eyes because of diabetus… and no signs of that showing up in my eyes so far.

I’m having the 2011 now that everyone else had in 2011 (I had a good 2011 until the end)… It just seems like one more crappy thing after another to sit in the back of my mind and chew away ….

i just started to need glasses a few months ago, i swear out of no where my vision got blurry, im 27 so i thought it was strange. i only wear them if im reading or on the computer, of course i should wear them all the time but i refuse.

Same here Jeff. I asked my 5th grade teacher why everyone wrote so small on the board. “You can’t see that?” “No.” First of many a pair of glasses for me. I lost the first pair within 2 weeks. Like everyone else, I did not realize that there were individual leaves on a tree AND individual blades of grass. Wow! Great update.

I started wearing glasses when I was 4, and I was the only kid with glasses until 3rd or 4th grade. I was tortured for them. My child started wearing glasses at the age of 2, but hopefully no one will bother him about them, because so many other kids are in glasses now.

I was supposed to wear eyeglasses starting in about the fourth grade, but refused to wear them until was about 26. I am only a little impared, so I got away with it for a long time. Now I think I need to make the switch to bifocals. I am currently wearing Johnny Depp’s glasses. Got ’em at Moscot’s.